


adrift amongst the flowers

by Tonne_doe



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity-centric, Angst, Anxiety, Arson, Blood, Crying, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy AU, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid AU, Hybrids, I Made Myself Cry, Kid Fic, Major Character Injury, Ms flora - Freeform, Other, Pain, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Suffering, THIS ONES GONNA BE SAD BOYS, Violence, Wing AU, Winged Alexis | Quackity, so much pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonne_doe/pseuds/Tonne_doe
Summary: Alex is loveable, his small wings are so expressive, he is so happy, his smile is so bright, so why is he broken?He is a child when the hunters come. He is a teenager when they return.This one's gonna hurt my friends.(if any creators are uncomfy ill take down)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 88





	adrift amongst the flowers

**Author's Note:**

> TW's for violence, blood, and death.
> 
> I hope you guys like it! I've been in a rut recently but I'm so glad I got to write this first chapter! Expect more!!   
> (ALSO THE RETURN OF MS FLORA WOOO)

Prologue

Nothing is more graceful than dancing flowers, swaying amongst the wind, beckoning bees to join the ballet. 

Sitting on a rock, watching, was a child, no older than 9, his dark hair rustling in the soft wind along with the plants that accompanied him in the field.

But there was a problem. The boy was crying.

“ _ Why are you weeping child?”  _ Asked the sparrow that hopped on a nearby branch, “I am lost and scared Ancestor, my raft has been killed, and only I remain.” The boy told the sparrow, fresh tears falling down his face. 

“ _ This is a man’s journey. I cannot interfere with the intentions of Caelum.”  _ The sparrow chirped, scratching its neck with exposed talons. 

_ “You are but a child. The voices of Pedisequos still speak to you. So come with me. I will bring you to safety.” _

**_Chapter one_ **

  
  


“Ms. Flora! Help!” Alex yelled over his shoulder, “What- Alex!! What on earth!?” Ms. Flora shrieked, quickly wetting a cloth to put on the fire that was spreading across the counter.

“What happened?! You were just making eggs!” Ms. Flora questioned, more bewildered than angry. It took a lot to get Ms. Flora angry.

“I’m sorry! I only looked away for a moment!” Alex said, his small wings puffing up slightly. “That’s alright cariño. I know you didn’t mean anything, just please- be careful. One of these days, you are going to burn this house to the ground.” They both laughed at that, “Sorry.” Alex repeated.

Ms. Flora was a sweet woman. Though strict, she didn’t hesitate to take Alex in when he was younger. She had a sense of humor that could make anyone laugh. Her food was more delicious than the heaven’s, Alex had informed her. 

He considered her less of a mother figure and more of a friend. Best friend. 

They did everything together, keeping their small farm healthy, feeding the chickens every morning, shooing the deer away from the blueberries, harvesting the carrots before the frost came. 

The only time they saw anyone else was when they had to go into town and buy things. They avoided these trips as much as possible since people did not take kidly to a Fugari and Aperviti coming to their humble town.

  
  


When a small boy, rambling about sparrows, had shown up on her doorstep, Ms. Flora had been rather shocked.

Let alone the fact it was one in the morning, she also lived hours away from any real civilization, her cottage standing in a large clearing in the middle of a dense forest. 

Ms. Flora had never wanted children. Not only did she hate the idea of them having to deal with the fear and discrimination against hybrids, but she also just didn’t like kids. Children were loud, children complained, children were not for her.

So when she ushered the thin child inside, taking note of his tiny wings, She had not expected him to immediately start apologizing and begging her not to bring him to the humans.

Once she had assured him that, no, she would not turn him into the village people, he calmed down. She set him up on the couch, tucking in the corners of the comforter around his shivering form.

In the morning, he helped make breakfast.

Maybe kids weren’t too bad?

___________

Alex was a polite kid. If a bit loud, he never complained and always helped with chores. He was very kind-hearted, always looking after the farm animals if they got hurt. She taught him how to read and write, a rare attribute hybrid's had, since they could not go to school.

Alex would write stories, telling tales of adventures who would roam the world, exploring vast caves and tall mountains. Ms. Flora loved his stories.

Sometimes Ms. Flora felt guilty that he did not have any friends his age, noticing how his feathers would droop when she couldn’t play with him. So, she found a solution. 

It was one of the rare days that She had to go to town, picking up fabric and hay from the shops where the villagers glared at her tusks mistrustfully.

She had instructed Alex to stay behind, telling him she had business to attend. With reluctance, he waved her goodbye from the cottage window as she started the four-hour walk to the closest village. 

_________

With her return, he rushed out to her, paint smeared on his hands and cheek. “get washed up. I have a present for you,” She instructed, smiling fondly as he hustled inside to wash his hands.

When his hands were clean, paint still rubbed in a few places he missed. He sat excitedly at the table where Ms. Flora was taking off the large basket on her back. 

“You ready?” She asked, “Yes!” He said, smiling widely, his missing tooth evident. “Alright, open the basket. Be gentle. It’s fragile.” She said softly, pushing the large basket towards the vibrating child. 

Alex opened the basket carefully, gasping loudly as he looked down at a striped cat. “Huh?! Ms. Flora! There’s a cat in here!” He informed her loudly, making her laugh. “Well, I sure hope there is. If there wasn’t, he would have gotten away.” She laughed, “I-is he for me??” Alex asked, dumbfounded. “Of course, I thought you could use another friend.” She said.

Alex looked down at the cat again, it stared at him lazily, then he started to tear up. “M-Ms. Flora…” He bubbled, rubbing his eyes hastily. “Oh Alex, you’re welcome. Come here,” She said, opening her arms. “T-Thank you!”

From that day on, the newly proclaimed ‘Tiger’ never left Alex’s side.

  
  


**_______________________________________________________ **

  
  
  
  


Marilla Flora was born into the fiery heat of war, the smell of death, strong in the air. From the moment she could open her eyes, she was in danger.

Aperviti were seen as aggressive hybrids. The boar in their blood gave them both strength and anger. When Flora was just two when she understood that humans did not like her, she must stay with her Passel, never straying far from the camp. The fools who dared to wander close to the villages, scrounging for food, would be captured and killed. 

Some hybrid breeds were perceived as weaker, their type less aggressive, they were often enslaved instead of killed. But Aperviti were too much of a threat, killed off instantly, even the children.

When she was nine her only family was tugged away from her, leaving her broken like the bodies of her mother and sister.

“Mama!” Flora screamed, tugging at the arms of the tall man who held her. “Let me go!” She screamed at the man, her throat aching with the force of it. The man turned to his friend, who was holding Flora’s limp sister, speaking in a language Flora barely knew. (English?) he sounded annoyed.

Rain poured down on Flora’s face, her tears mixing with the water. Her mothers’ lifeless body was getting soaked on the cold ground. Her blood creating a small stream down the village road.

Flora’s Mama was pale as the daisy petals she used to wear in her hair. Her pummeled arms tied behind her, uselessly attached to the wall, even though it was apparent she wasn’t going anywhere. 

Flora’s eyes were locked on her dying mother when a sudden movement in her peripheral made her tear them away from the sight. Her sister, still limp, was being dragged away by the mans’ friend. Her eyes closed, blood so saturated on her skin that Flora couldn’t tell where it was coming from, 

“STOP!” Flora screamed, fighting against the man’s strong arms fruitlessly. Her older sister, who taught her how to sew, who told her stories before she fell asleep, who protected her no matter what, who was slumped over in a stranger’s grasp, barely breathing. 

The man pulled her sister into a sitting position, wiping the rain on his sleeve, before pulling a knife out of his pocket. “NO STOP! PLEASE! ME! ME INSTEAD, GOD NO!” Flora screamed so hard blood erupted from her throat, causing her to gag. 

The man spared her no glance, slashing her sister’s throat in one quick motion, then letting go of her and watching her body fall off the platform he was on, blood gushing out of her neck. He called something to the other men, no remorse on his chiseled face.

Flora grew limp, no longer fighting the tall man’s grasp. Sobbing so hard the air stopped coming to her lungs. She was alone, in the pouring rain, her sister’s blood on her shoes, the cold air daring not to make a sound. 

The man holding her let go suddenly, allowing her to hit the sharp ground with a crack. She scrambled to her mother, begging, “Mama, Mama, you must wake! You must wake! Please, Mama!” She whispered into her mother’s ear, shaking her stiff body. 

Her mother did not move.

Giving up, Flora lifted her cold arms, tucking herself into her chest. She pushed her head further and further into her, waiting for any sign of life from her mother. None came.

She clung to her cold body and sung the song her sister sung every night. When her voice stopped working, she hummed the rest of the song. “Wake me up, Mama! I don’t like this dream,” she cried hoarsely, kissing her Mom’s cheek and desperately waiting for a reply.

It’s not real. It  _ can’t  _ be real.

Flora cried and waited for the man to kill her too. She didn’t fight when he picked her up, slashing her throat like her sister. There was no pain, just buzzing, rain, and cold.

  
  


_ Was she dead? _

**Author's Note:**

> I loveee your comments!! gimme critiques if you wanna <3 kudos help


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